Sebring
“Okay, Nick,” she said softly.
“Now, I think the challenge you issued my digestive system has been bested so I can fuck you without passing out or throwing up.”
She frowned.
He ignored that and decreed, “Time to do that.”
“Just to share an important tidbit as we figure our stuff out, your ridicule of my cooking is not amusing to me, Nick Sebring.”
“Babe, you emptied a bottle of French dressing into ground beef seasoned with taco seasoning, fried flour tortillas, dumped mac ‘n’ chees on that, the beef on that, sour cream, cheese and guac on that and set that shit in front of me. It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted. And if a nutritionist saw it, they’d be apoplectic.”
“Life is short and it mostly sucks so who cares what a nutritionist thinks?” she shot back. “You have to have some things you enjoy. I eat fruit. I eat veggies. I do Pilates two times a week. I walk on a treadmill for an hour four times a week. Every once in a while you have to treat yourself to such as taco extravaganza. It makes life worth living.”
“How about we find other ways to make life worth living, like orgasms and mindless TV?” he returned.
“Is there a limit to things that you can have that make life worth living? Because if there is, I’ve got you, that’s a huge boost, but I still don’t think I’m even close.”
I’ve got you, that’s a huge boost.
Fuck, that felt good.
Really good.
“Totally fucking you now,” he declared, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the bedroom.
“Sebring, the dishes aren’t done.”
He pulled her up the steps, “Shade, don’t care.”
“Sebring—”
He stopped and yanked her around.
“Get naked,” he growled.
She glared at him stubbornly.
He knew how to break through that so he did it, taking off his shirt.
Her glare wavered as her eyes dropped to his chest.
His hands went to his belt.
Her hands went to her tank.
He beat her to naked.
In the race to orgasm, she beat him.
But with that, Nick never minded finishing second.
Chapter Twenty
Wade Through Shit
Nick
6:13 – The Next Morning
Just after coming, instead of collapsing on Livvie, he rolled, bringing her with him.
She gave him her weight, her thighs gripping his hips, her face in his neck, her breathing heavy, her soft body fluid in his arms, still coming down from her orgasm.
Christ, weeks he’d had her and every fuck was better than the last.
One of many indications, if they could wade through the shit, their future was bright.
But first¸ they had to wade through the shit.
To that end, he tightened his hold on her before either of their breathing had evened and told her quietly, “Starting today, gonna put a man on you, baby. Everywhere you go.”
He felt her tense against him, he fucking hated it, but he kept going.
“He’ll be unobtrusive. But even with him on you, when I text or phone, want you to answer. If you can’t right away, do it as soon as you can. Yesterday you didn’t and it made me uneasy.”
“Okay, Nick,” she agreed.
He let out a breath.
Then he hit the next possible pile of shit.
“You sleep okay?”
She lifted her head and looked at him through the dark before dawn.
“Yes,” she lied.
He slid a hand up her back.
“Baby,” he started gently, “every night I’ve had you, you been restless.”
“I’m not a good sleeper.”
“Shit in your head?” he asked.
“I…” She stopped whatever she was going to say and answered simply, “Yes.”
“Can I help with that?”
She laid still on him for a beat before she dropped her forehead to his.
He slid his hand all the way up her back to tangle it in her hair.
“Livvie?” he called.
“I think you just did,” she said, sliding her head down so she had her nose pressed against the hinge of his jaw.
“Sorry?”
“Helped with that. I think you just did, Nicky,” she told him, words in her soft voice he felt hit him hard in the gut.
So his “Good,” was gruff.
They fell silent and held on.
Unfortunately, he had to roll her to the side and pull out of her.
“Shower time, Liv,” he muttered.
“Okay, sweetheart,” she muttered back.
He pulled them out of bed.
Having waded through that shit, he took them to the second best part of the morning.
Their shower.
* * * * *
5:22 – That Evening
Nick’s phone ringing, he took the call and put it to his ear.
“Sebring.”
“She’s got a tail on her,” Jed, the man he set on Liv that day, said. “Dude followed her from office to home. He’s hangin’ around, watchin’ her house.”
“He make you?” Nick asked.
“No,” he answered. “But he doesn’t look like he’s leaving.”
“Fuck,” Nick muttered, that itch creeping up his neck again, his mind hoping that this was what Liv told him it was, standard procedure. His bugs being pulled, his gut was telling him something else. Then to Jed, louder, “Thanks, man. Stick around, yeah?”
“You got it.”
Nick hung up then reengaged, calling Olivia.
“Hey, honey,” she answered.
“You had a tail. He’s watching your house.”
She didn’t reply for several moments before he heard a low, “Damn,” and he knew she’d gone to a window and tagged her watcher.